


Kisses Down Low

by obicifical



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Established Relationship, Fingering, M/M, Oral Sex, Other, Sticky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-19
Updated: 2014-10-19
Packaged: 2018-02-21 18:02:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2477387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obicifical/pseuds/obicifical
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robots eating out robots, and also some fingering. And overloads. Can't forget the overloads.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kisses Down Low

**Author's Note:**

> Crossposted from my tumblr (http://oobii.tumblr.com). An old fic, but I worked hard on it and I'm still a little proud of it. Except for the ending-- I redid that compared to the old one because ew.

Sprawled on his back with his arms above his helm, Ironhide was welcomingly pliable in Ratchet's skilled servos, alternating between a constant low idling of his engine and a louder, more gravelly hum deep in his chest. His plating was loose, seams relaxed and optics hooded as he watched the medic press and trace the intricate plating of his midsection.

Ratchet slid his fingers down to the upper edge of Ironhide's pelvic armor, gently examining the seam where panel and armor came together when closed. The gunner stirred a little, craning his helm up to look at Ratchet curiously, and the medic clicked at him with a mischevious look in his optics.

"N' wha're you doin' down there?" Ironhide raised himself up on his elbows, helm tilted as Ratchet paid close attention to the intricate construction of his panel. The medic rolled his pauldrons in a shrug and exvented softly, his digits moving down to Ironhide's hipjoints. The red mech tensed up a little reflexitively and then relaxed again, purring softly and spreading his legs enough for Ratchet to have better access.

"Lahke where this is goin'," Ironhide murmured. Ratchet let out a soft chuckle and manipulated a thick wire in the gunner's left hip, one directly connected to his array. The taller mech jumped slightly and laughed, armor flaring as he sat up fully. "Didn't even know I had tha'."

"You've got quite a few of these all over your body. Not all of them are connected to your array, though." Ratchet twisted it again, and Ironhide shivered, his wheels spinning. "Primary nerve wires. Very sensitive.. you can do all sorts of interesting things with them." Another spin and a gentle tug, and Ironhide's panel popped open of its own accord. He jerked his legs up and gave Ratchet a look between suspicious and anticipatory.

"Y'all're usin' science against me again." The gunner reached down, gently stroking one of Ratchet's finials. He leaned into the touch and smiled, rubbing his thumb against Ironhide's thigh.

"Science works. Besides, you haven't closed up, have you?" He tapped the bridge between Ironhide's spike housing and his valve, optics flicking up to meet the gunner's. Ironhide grinned, sliding his hand down to trace Ratchet's jawline.

"Was kind of thinkin' you'd keep usin' science on me. Or are ya juss gonna leave me here after all tha' butterin' up?"

"Of course not." Ratchet pulled himself up off of his front, into a sitting position facing Ironhide. He pressed a palm against the red mech's front, encouraging him to lay back down. "I know better than that, trust me- ah. Hold still."

"Mmm." Ironhide settled his chin on his collarplate and watched Ratchet lazily, helm pillowed on one forearm. The medic shifted, crisscrossing his legs in front of him, and circled his thumb around the housing of Ironhide's as-yet unemerged spike; the corner of his mouth tilted up in a smile as he saw the gunner's kneejoint tense out of the corner of his optic.

"No squirming." He noted the way Ironhide's thighs fell apart a little more at his tone and stifled a smile. He'd been a little reluctant to indulge the red mech the way he'd been hinting at for a while; the way they interfaced now was perfectly fine, with the occasional switch of who was on top and who was on the bottom- but Ironhide was willing, and it wouldn't hurt to just.. be a little firmer with him, to make him happy.

Fingertips ghosted against the pliable dermaplating surrounding Ironhide's valve and the taller mech's plating flared, seams visibly parting in a silent affirmation. Ratchet's optics narrowed in a private smile and he pulled his hand back up, kneading the heels of his palms on the exposed biolights that decorated the gunner's spike array. He knew Ironhide's anatomy down to the structure of his optics; he never could stand having his lights teased too long, as the way his hips rose up into Ratchet's touch attested.

The medic jerked his hands away and shoved Ironhide's pelvis back down with a thunk, shooting him a displeased look. "Hold. Still."

Oh, he was interested now. His optics widened a little, palms splaying across the berth as he adjusted himself a little. There was no worry in his expression; on the contrary, Ironhide looked anticipatory. Ratchet's gaze bored into his for a few kliks, just to make sure, and then he leaned back on his aft and noticed that the gunner was almost fully erect.

Sometimes Ironhide was just _easy._

Ratchet wrapped one hand around the gunner's spike and flicked his optics back up to his faceplates at the slightly strained noise; once he was satisfied Ironhide wasn't going to move around too much the medic focused back on his spike, tracing the flared edges and ridges with his forefinger. Ironhide twitched and grunted, valiantly trying to keep himself still and succeeding for the most part, although occasionally his hips would jerk up in a stifled thrust.

He slid his palm across the head of Ironhide's length, rolling it over and around the sensitive plating. He could feel prefluid smoothing the friction between his hand and Ironhide, and after a minute or so of teasing he pulled his hand back and looked over his work- his squirming, intensely aroused and almost-pleading work.

Ironhide looked like he desperately wanted to say something but didn't quite know if it was alright to speak- which it was, but Ratchet was going to let him stew in his own uncertainty for a little bit. Instead he just lazily let his left hand drift down to ghost over the gunner's valve rim, his right hand settled on Ironhide's midsection just to make sure he didn't move around.

He was slick under the medic's fingers, just barely rocking into his touch as Ratchet teased and manipulated the soft dermaplating. The thing with fingering- for Ratchet, and for most medibots- was that his hands were fine-tuned instruments of healing, capable of telling precise temperature, charge and metal type, amongst other things. Ironhide'd taken advantage of this several times, working Ratchet to an overload with just his mouth and fingers once when 'Hide had gotten shot in the panel. The sensation when he sunk his digits into a valve was similar, but wetter, less precise.

He'd never really thoroughly fingered Ironhide before- oh, he'd gently teased him, stimulated him 'till he was fully ready, but that had been with shallow movements to avoid getting himself too worked up. Now, though, he let his middle digit press at the rim of the gunner's valve, the hand holding him down curling in anticipation as he very slowly slid his finger into Ironhide and oh, _oh_ Primus. Oh.

He must've said something out loud while he wasn't paying attention, because Ironhide let out a quiet, amused chuff that turned into a sighing noise of pleasure as Ratchet delved deeper inside him. His body welcomed the contact, charge licking across his walls and the medic's fingers. He was warm, clamping down tightly on Ratchet's digits as the medic sunk in to his last knuckle and twisted, crooking it and massaging against the taller mech's anterior valve wall.

"Babe," Hide murmured, peds digging into the berth. Ratchet could hear the tension cables in his legs ticking and pinging, tensing and relaxing as he fought not to squirm. The medic rumbled his engine and searched, tracing the net of sensor nodes lining Ironhide's valve walls slowly. He wanted to _learn_ \- learn what made him flinch, what made him arch and cry out his name, and he wanted to eke out a few more gasps too because damn it Ironhide had a nice voice.

A firm but careful slide against an interior seam line and Ironhide's thighs came together, his body bearing down on the medic's fingers greedily enough to make his vents hitch. Ratchet looked up at Hide's faceplates and pursed his lips, watching the red mech's optics fall shut, lips parted as he rocked against the medic's digit. As much as Ratchet enjoyed seeing his gunner like this, he had specifically told him _not_ to move. Several times, now.

He jerked his hands away from Ironhide, ignoring the chill as his warm, wet fingers soaked in the comparatively cooler air. The taller mech yelped and writhed, rubbing his legs together and trying not to smack Ratchet at the same time, all the while giving him a pleading look. "Ratch..!"

"I've told you several times now not to move, 'Hide. If you keep ignoring my instructions we're not going to get anywhere." Ratchet sat back on his haunches, legs tucking underneath himself. Ironhide kicked against the berth in frustration, and now that the medic could look him over in detail he noticed the heated shimmer around Ironhide's vents. He chuckled quietly, reaching forward to stroke the red mech's grille. "Should I just tie you down? It would make things easier."

"I don't know." He sounded horribly frustrated, although he was mostly still now. Ratchet got the sense that if he tried again he'd end up getting rebuffed, so instead he swung his legs off of the berth and stood, heading to its foot. Ironhide watched him curiously and slowly sat up, one hand sliding inbetween his legs almost unconsciously as Ratchet kneeled and leaned against the berth. "..Wha're you doin'?"

"Come here." Ratchet waved him closer, grabbing onto his gunner's hands as he scooted nearer to Ratchet. This close, the medic could nearly taste the metallic tang of arousal on his glossa, and as his optics met Ironhide's he smiled and pulled him down for a kiss.

Ironhide was nearly feverish, the way his lips met the medic's, all heat and desire and the need to get even closer. Roughened black hands cupped the smaller mech's helm, rubbing over the seam lines and the strip of vermillion down the middle with a welcome familiarity. Ratchet crooned into the kiss and tilted his helm as Ironhide found and teased one of his finials, biting down on Ironhide's lower lip when he pinched the sensitive metal. He revved his engine when the gunner pulled away and met optics with him, watching the way Ironhide's pale apertures dilated and shrunk minutely.

"Hide," Ratchet murmured, reaching up to cup the side of Ironhide's helm. The red mech jerked away, but only to grab Ratchet's fingertips in his mouth lightly, gripping between dente with a purr. The medic grinned and tugged away carefully, splaying his hands across Ironhide's front. "Lay back."

He did as told, although he took his sweet time with it- Ratchet's finials were tingling by the time Ironhide pulled away, settling himself on his elbows with a curious look on his faceplates. The smaller mech pushed Ironhide's thighs apart, stroking at his hip pistons with a low, sweet purr and studiously ignoring his slickened valve entrance. Ironhide twitched, fingers curled tightly enough to creak.

"Ya gonna do somethin' down there or are ya juss gonna keep teasin' me?" Ironhide tilted his helm, his pelvis twitching minutely as Ratchet kept prying and tweaking the wires deep inside his left hip. He was leaking, now; glossy pearlescent lubricant marked the padding on the berth, and Ratchet watched his expression with an almost devious look.

"Do you think I'm cruel enough to just leave you here wanting?" he asked, sliding his hands under Ironhide's thighs slowly. The gunner smirked, leaning into his medic's touch with a soft, low rev of his engine.

"I _know_ ya are, babe." He reached back, grabbing the two pillows, and shoved them under himself with a grunt. Ratchet ran his fingers over and under Ironhide's plating, tugging on his legs, and leaned forward.

"Oh, do you, now?" Hide was still dripping, Ratchet noted. He trailed a finger through it, licking the sweet tang off his digit slowly and seductively in front of Ironhide's optics. The look on the gunner's face made a smile bloom across Ratchet's, and he wrapped his arms around Ironhide's thighs again- tighter this time, with experienced silver hands gripping the inside plating.

Ironhide tensed, letting out a curious noise as his fingers curled against the berth's padding and Ratchet gave him a devious look. The medic leaned forward, shifting and pulling Ironhide forward a little so his aft was right on the edge of the berth, and then craned his helm down and wrapped his lips around the gunner's puffed, slick entrance.

"A-ah!" Hide lurched in his medic's grip, mouth dropping open in suprise.  His chassis heaved as Ratchet traced the circular metalmesh with the tip of his glossa, and when the smaller mech pulled away lubricant coated his chin. He chuckled, rubbing circles on Ironhide's thighs soothingly, licking his lower lip. The medic was almost worried he'd done something wrong for a second, but Ironhide looked both pleased and shocked at the same time.

"Want me to do that again?" Ratchet grinned, squeezing the gunner's thighs when he nodded enthusiastically. The medic let his mate adjust, hips tilting up just a little more, and then he leaned forward and placed a wet kiss against Ironhide's valve rim, smiling when Ironhide shivered and revved softly.

Ratchet flicked his glossa back and trailed it up the slick valve array, humming as he felt Ironhide contract and buck slightly against his mouth. Hide slid a hand down, fingers brushing against Ratchet's helm lightly to encourage him, and whuffed as the medic pressed the tip of his glossa just past Ironhide's rim and teased the nodes within. Charge crackled against Ratchet's taste nodes as he pushed in deeper, metallic-sweet lubricant rushing to meet him. Ironhide shuddered, fingers curling against his mate's helm.

  
"Yeah.. yeah, right lahke tha', tha'ss good.. Tha'ss real good." Ironhide's voice wavered as Ratchet rolled his glossa along the soaked walls of his valve, pulling back occasionally to tease the exterior node set just above the gunner's rim. The red mech's legs trembled, vents whirring with hot air as he scraped his fingers up Ratchet's helm and rocked minutely into his mouth. "Mmmn-hmm-mm- keep doin' tha', oh- babe.."

"Hmmm," Ratchet murmured, and Ironhide arched at the soft vibration, optics closing tight as he groaned.

"Babe.. mmnh- hhhmm." Ironhide shifted, vents shimmering with hot air as he pulled slightly at Ratchet's gripping arms. "Lil' more'a tha. Yeah- yeah, tha'-" He trailed off into a wordless groan as his medic sealed his lips around sensitive plating and sucked lightly, optics flicking up to see if he could catch a glimpse of the gunner's face. He couldn't, but he could hear the soft grunts and cries, feel the way Ironhide stiffened as he pushed his glossa in ever-so-delicately and teased one of his ceiling nodes.

"Fffuh- ahhh-" One of Ironhide's hands curled into a fist against the berth's padding and he fluttered around Ratchet's glossa, panting raggedly, electricity sparking as his charge spiraled ever upwards. "Babe- juss a lil' more, please-"

::Fingers?:: Ratchet suggested, keeping to comm because he knew Ironhide was too close to stand the medic pausing for speech. He swirled his glossa against the gunner's staticky valve walls, eking out a yelp of pleasure. ::Maybe the finger trick?::

"Yes," Ironhide gasped, nearly howling when Ratchet pulled away just enough to slide one of his hands close, letting go of Ironhide's left thigh, and teased the shivering mech with the barest touch of a fingertip. " _Ratchet_!"

"Shhh," Ratchet crooned, easily slipping his second and third fingers into him, palm facing upwards. It was an awkward position he was in- his neck hurt like hell to boot, he was going to need a shower after this- but oh, the noise Ironhide made, the way his entire body stiffened as Ratchet easily found his ceiling nodes and started to sharply thrust against them- that was worth it. The corner of his mouth curled up as Ironhide writhed, going nearly silent except for a few sharp gasps.

Something snapped audibly as the gunner plateaued, on the edge of overload and hanging there for a few long kliks courtesy of slowed movements. Ratchet traced one single node's diameter, pressing hard- Ironhide's frame went taut as a harpstring before he _screamed_ , one hand snapping up to muffle his own cries. Ratchet held still, watching the red mech raptly, optics bright as he rubbed circles over Ironhide's hip-plating gently. Transfluid spattered against his windshield and smoke curled from something in Ironhide's midsection- probably a blown circuit, and later Ratchet would pretend to be cranky about it, but right now he was awful proud of himself.

  
He pulled himself up to a kneeling position as Ironhide slowly came back down, wiping his fingers off on the berth and lazily sprawling next to him. The taller mech still looked dazed, completely limp with optics hooded. Ratchet took the opportunity to drape himself across the red mech's warm frame and cup the side of his helm gently.

"You okay?" he hummed, brushing his nasal ridge against Ironhide's cheekvent. The gunner laughed softly, lazily throwing an arm over Ratchet's shoulders. 

"M'fahne." He kissed Ratchet's left chevron-half, his entire frame thrumming with afterglow, and the medic hid a smug, self-satisfied leer in Ironhide's chestplating as the larger mech drew him closer. "Love you."

"Love _you,_ " Ratchet murmured softly.


End file.
